


Collapse Into Me

by sidium



Series: Even Heroes Have the Right to Bleed [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff, Insecurity, M/M, Steve Has Issues, Tony Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 22:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1024116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidium/pseuds/sidium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's finally feeling like he's found his footing, and Tony's starting to feel like he's losing his. </p><p>[Sequel to 'If I Just Lay Here (Would You Lie With Me?)']</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> And we're finally at the sequel. I want to thank everyone for their words of support following the announcement I made explaining my current situation and how I was postponing this story. It really meant a lot to me, you guys are so sweet. 
> 
> If you're new to this series, you might want to go back and read the prequel to this. I'm pretty sure this story will make sense by itself, but you'd probably be happier with a backstory. Your choice.

One thing most people don’t ever realize about Tony Stark is that, despite popular belief, he’s actually a patient person.

Okay, he’ll be honest. Most of the time, he’s not, really. If he wants your attention right now, he’ll be damned if he’s waiting the two minutes it’ll take for you to stop whatever it is you’re doing that, chances are, isn’t as important as he is. Bruce will be the first to attest to that.

And it’s not limited to just people, he gets frustrated at the microwave for daring to have to take three whole, entire minutes to cook his food. It’s true, when it comes to the small, petty things in life, he’s about as impatient as an unruly five-year-old.

But when it comes to the things that matter, really matter; getting all the minute, tiny details of the Iron Man suit absolutely perfect before telling JARVIS to fabricate the pieces; or waiting for Steve to say he’s ready for a relationship without making him feel pressured; he refuses to push things.  

He knows, in the back of his mind, that he _could_ push Steve. It wouldn’t even have to be a guilt trip, though that would work. All it would take is just a few serious talks to convince him, or maybe flirting with other people to make him jealous enough to go ahead and initiate something. But Tony also knows that it would be completely counter-productive, because that’s pretty much the last thing Tony wants.   
  
He wants Steve to come to his own decisions on his own terms. He wants him to want Tony because he just does, not because Tony manipulated him, guilted him or convinced him to.

Which is why when they kiss, on the rare of occasions they do, Tony doesn’t complain or object when Steve pulls away; he just lets himself smile indulgently and enjoy having Steve so close. It’s also why, when Tony occasionally sneaks into Steve’s bed late at night, he doesn’t let his hands wander. Instead, feeling every muscle in his body relax, being pressed up so close to Steve; and feeling Steve sigh contentedly against him.   
  
Steve is still a complete sap and a sucker for physical contact. It’s not unusual to see him sitting with Natasha’s feet in his lap, or even stretched out with Thor on the sofa. Tony doesn’t get jealous. Though, he does wonder how the sofa survived that combo. He understands how much Steve craves physical affection, and besides, Tony’s still the only person Steve sleeps with. Even if it is _just sleep_. Regardless, the whole team co-operates in indulging him on a daily basis, since everyone else seems to enjoy it, too.

And it’s why, when Steve comes wandering into his lab, he doesn’t shove him against the wall and start grinding against him, while whispering a combination of sappy and absolutely filthy promises into Steve’s soft, warm skin.

Instead, as he looks away from the monitor in front of him, takes a moment to admire Steve’s new haircut as he hops up to sit on Tony’s desk.

“Oh, hey, look at you.” Tony says approvingly, reaching out to gently tug on the tips of the gentle brunet spikes Steve’s hair has been styled into. “New. Modern. I approve.”

Steve shrugs, and playfully grinning, pulls away slightly from Tony’s grasp.

“Who finally snapped and took you?” Tony asks excitedly, “Was it Bruce?” Then he waves a hand dismissively before Steve can answer, “No, no, couldn’t be. He has to be reminded to get _his own_ hair cut. Did Natasha drag you to her girly salon?” At the fond shake of Steve’s head, he guesses again, “Wasn’t Thor.” He says with a snicker, “Clint?” He finally asks.

“What makes you so positive I didn’t just decide to go on my own?” Steve asks, quirking an eyebrow, amused.

“Oh please, like you’d give up your love affair with Brylcreem so easily.” Tony says, giving Steve his best ‘who-the-fuck-are-you-kidding’ look, and Steve laughs.

“Darcy.” Steve finally reveals.

“Jane’s friend?” Tony asks, reaching out again to run his fingers through Steve’s hair, who lets him this time.

“Yeah, I walked into the living room, and all the girls were there watching a movie. Suddenly, Darcy just grabbed me and told me we had to do something about my ‘adorably-old-school-but-slightly-sad’ situation. Took me half-way to the hair salon to understand what she was talking about.”

Tony laughs, picking up his water bottle and taking a drink. “So you were coerced, huh?”

“ _Well_ ,” Steve says, stretching it out so it has multiple syllables, “more like... forcefully guided?” he says, barely holding back his laughter. “I might have been a little afraid to say ‘no’. _Might’ve_.”

Tony gives a mock-gasp, “Captain America, National _Hero_ , afraid of a plain, average, human girl?”

Steve shoots him a look that lets him know, they both know _all_ the women in their lives are not to be fucked with. Some are just deadlier than others.

“My only regret is I didn’t get to be the one to drag you there.” Tony sighs in a dramatic fashion, leaning back as far as his desk chair will allow without falling over.

“Well, you can come along in six weeks when I go back to get it trimmed.” Steve teases, patting him consolingly on the shoulder, “Does that make you feel better?”

“Oh, I got a few ideas on how I could feel better.” Tony says, voice dropping to a seductive tone, eyeing Steve up and down. “Or a few dozen, whatever.”

“Down, boy.” Steve says, grinning, pushing Tony with the hand on his shoulder, and making his chair swivel slightly.

This isn’t unusual for them. Give them a decent amount of time together, and Tony will inevitably make a suggestive comment or lewd remark, and Steve will swat him away affectionately without ever really saying ‘no’. It’s a kind of security for them, that they’re both on the same page, still want the same things they did five months ago.

“Speaking of feeling better, I’m glad to see you’re feeling better today.” Tony mentions lightly, and Steve gives him a small, rueful grin.

“Yeah, sorry about that.” He says, looking pained.

“Ah!” Tony holds up a hand, “We _both_ agreed, no apologies for the shit in our lives we can’t control. No take-backsies.”

“Okay, okay.” Steve says, holding up his hands in mock-surrender, Tony drops his hand and Steve follows suit, playfully sticking his tongue out at Tony before speaking again. “But yeah, it is a lot better today. Yesterday was… just a bad day.”

“I know. It happens.” Tony says, casually. “I’m just glad it doesn’t happen too often.” He gives Steve’s hand a small squeeze, and Steve just grins fondly.

Steve still does have bad days. Some worse than others, and yesterday had been pretty bad. He’d woken up with a hollow ache in his chest, and Tony knew something was wrong when he’d woken up and Steve was still next to him, instead of out on his morning run. Like Tony said, it didn’t happen often, so when it did, they both just kind of let it be. Tony hadn’t said anything or even asked, there wasn’t any point. He already knew what was wrong. He just pulled Steve closer and stroked his hair. They’d both learned that leaving it be, laying around and just letting Steve _feel it_ , helped. Even if that meant Steve spending the better part of his day sporadically crying into Tony’s neck. Ignoring it just let to worse situations later on.  
  
Getting Steve out of the Tower after a while also helped. Tony idely wonders if maybe Steve allowed the haircut because he wanted a change or if he wanted out of the Tower for a while.

Tony goes back to his screen, tapping away contentedly, and Steve watches. This is another habit of theirs. Steve usually watches Tony work for a while, before wandering over to his corner of the lab to read or draw. He doesn’t spend all his free time down there, they’ve both learned the value of  independence in their relationship; but Tony had the sofa, bookshelves and cabinets installed without consulting Steve. When asked, he managed a pathetically weak defense of ‘not a big deal’ and ‘just wanted you around sometimes.’ Steve didn’t bring it up again, just smiled and thanked Tony gracefully. Now, it was normal to find him down in Tony’s space while Tony worked.

Instead of wandering away this time though, he clears his throat and sighs. “Hey, Tony.” He says casually. “Would you like to go out tonight?”

“Sure,” Tony says, without looking up from the screen. “Where’re we going?”

Steve smiles, always pleased when Tony agrees to go anywhere with him. Usually, there’s a third-party, or most times, even a fourth or fifth, but still. “It’s a surprise.”

At that, Tony does look up, eyeing Steve skeptically, “This isn’t gonna be like the last surprise, where Bruce took us to that weird sushi place, is it? Don’t get me wrong, I love Bruce; but that place was sketchy as hell and you know it.” 

“Hey, he was taking someone else’s recommendation,” Steve says, coming to Bruce’s defense, “he was just as grossed out as the rest of us were.”

“Who the hell does he know that would recommend that place?” Tony asks, sneering in thinly-veiled disgust.

“I have no idea.” Steve admits, shaking his head. “No, actually, I was wondering if we could go out tonight. Just... you and me.”

“Oh,” Tony says, mildly surprised. It’s unusual for it to be _just_ the two of them, the implications and overtones of the evening feeling too official date-like for either of them to be comfortable. But, hey, he’s willing to try again if Steve is. “Sure. Okay."

“Great!” Steve says, beaming at Tony, and Tony feels his heart skip a beat. No matter how many times Steve smiles at him like that, he knows he’ll always react the same. “I’ll come get you at six?” Tony nods agreeably, and Steve beams again, jumping down off of Tony’s table. “See you then.”

\------

Tony’s in the middle of calibrating the new repulsors into the holographic gauntlets on the display in front of him, when he hears the doors to his lab slide open. He forces himself not to flinch at the realization he’s most likely very late, because he needs to keep concentrating or he’ll have to start all over.

“JARVIS,” he asks, not looking away from his display monitor, “What time is it?”

“The current time is 6:08pm.” JARVIS answers, and Tony sighs. Well, that’s not as bad as he thought, but it’s not good.

“Well, shit.” He says as he makes a few more adjustments, “Hold on, just a sec, Cap. I’m almost finished with this.” A few more moments pass before he lets go of the hologram in front of him, and turn to Steve, arms outstretched. “Done!”

A moment passes in complete silence, as Tony takes in Steve’s appearance. Neither one of them move a single muscle for a long moment. Finally, Tony lets his arms drop, and steps closer, sees Steve fighting back a grin. His new hairdo is a little less messy than earlier, carefully styled and contributing to his more formal look. Black dress slacks, dress shoes, and a pressed, light blue button down; which is (dear God save him) buttoned all the way to the top.

“Well, look at you,” Tony says, carefully, “All spiffed up. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear this was an actual-”

Steve pulls a perfect red rose out from behind his back and Tony is momentarily rendered speechless.

“Date.” He finishes quietly. He stands motionless, staring in shock at the flower in Steve’s hand.

“It doesn’t bite.” Steve jokes after a long moment, shaking the rose slightly. Tony doesn’t miss the hint of nervousness in his tone.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Tony says, with a forced kind of calm, hoping. Hoping so hard he can feel it slide down his spine; how badly he wants Steve to tell him tonight is finally a real date.

“Yes.” Steve says, a little more confidently.

And Tony will forever regret and deny his teenage-cheerleader tone when he asks in an excited, breathless voice he barely recognizes as his own, “ _Really?_ ”

Steve doesn’t make fun, just laughs, and nods. “My therapist and I have been talking about it for a while now, a long while, and we-” Steve suddenly cuts himself off with a sharp exhale. “You know what? It’s not important. I’ll tell you about it later. What’s important right now, is that tonight is a real date; we have reservations; and you still need to get ready. Oh, and _I’m still holding this_.” He says, playfully holding the flower back up, and Tony carefully plucks it from his fingers. He hesitates for a moment before looking up at Steve.

“You’re sure about this?” Tony asks, suddenly the nervous one. “There’s always time to find someone else.” His irrational fear that Steve might have changed his mind is short-lived as Steve grins, carefully putting a hand on the back of Tony’s neck and pulling him forward to lay a soft kiss on his temple.

“You’re one of the few things I’m absolutely sure of.” Steve says, quiet and confident. Tony sighs and rests his head on Steve’s shoulder. A long beat passes.

“Now, go.” He says, pulling away and clapping Tony on the shoulder. “Get showered and dressed. I’ll be in the lobby when you’re ready.”

Tony goes to step away, but before he does, stops with a ‘wait’ and reaches up to undo the top button of Steve’s dress shirt. “There, now you’re perfect.”

\--------

After they leave the restaurant, it’s not freezing outside, but comfortable enough for them to decide to walk back to the Tower. Tony supposes, for a moment, walking down dark New York streets isn’t a brilliant idea. Then he remembers he’s Iron Man, and his current date happens to be Captain America. He doesn’t really think about it again after that.

Instead, he turns towards Steve and asks, “So what were you going to say earlier, about you and your therapist talking about this?”

Even in the dull street lights, Tony can see Steve duck his head and blush while they walk. “Uh, we’ve been talking about me dating. Dating you, to be more specific.”

“So you've mentioned me, huh?” Tony asks with a shit-eating grin, wiggling his eyebrows. Steve rolls his eyes.

“You’ve come up a few dozen times, yeah.” He can hear the grin in Steve’s voice. “Doctor Lee, she uh, she thinks that I’ve reached a point where dating in general isn’t a bad idea, but she was especially encouraging when I told her I wanted to date you.”

“Wait,” Tony says, confused, stopping Steve with a hand on his bicep, “What difference does it make who it is your dating?”

“Well,” Steve says, and licks his lips. “I told her what happened during the whole… episode. Everything we went through, everything you did for me- do for me. I mean, I told her _everything_ , Tony. I - I hope that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course.” Tony says, nodding. Steve starts to walk again and motions vaguely for Tony to follow.

“Well, she said because you understand my situation and what I’ve been through,” Steve went on, “If I had problems, or I needed someone I could talk to, besides her, you’d be a… ‘supportive partner.’” He says, making air quotes with his fingers, “You wouldn’t hurt me or try to judge me.”

Tony stayed silent, listening.

“I told her that I already had… feelings for you, and that I couldn’t imagine being with anyone else.” Steve says, looking down as he continued walking. “She thinks starting a relationship from scratch would be… difficult for me right now, too many unknowns about the other person to try and handle on top of everything else. But since we’re sort of already in one?”

Tony nods, easily. They are as far as he’s concerned.

“We agreed it seemed like a natural step, to get closer, and if you were willing, now would be as good a time as any. You and I both understand what’s important in a relationship, and you won’t try to push me into anything or magically fix me.”

“You sound pretty... confident about me.” Tony remarks, feeling slightly self-conscious for the first time in a long time.

Steve just smiles, and takes Tony’s hand in his as they walk. “That’s because I am.”

\------

It was late when they finally arrived back at the Tower, dinner having gone extremely well. The restaurant they’d gone to was nicer than most they’d been to before, but the conversation during dinner flowed as well as it always did, with easy laughter and comfortable silences. Tony’s not sure how it happened, but somehow, when they got back to the Tower, he’d become the girl, being escorted up to his room. He’s pretty sure it started with the rose. He’s also pretty sure he should be a little more annoyed than he is about the whole thing.   
  
But then again, he’s not sure who could go out on a date with Steve and be annoyed about anything.

When they make their way up to Tony’s door, before Tony can say ‘good night,’ Steve leans forward and presses a soft, sweet kiss against Tony’s lips. It’s slow, and unhurried, but it only lasts a fraction of what Tony would like it to. He leans forward when Steve pulls away, chasing Steve’s lips with his own. Usually, he’d worry about that little maneuver being perceived as desperate, but right now, all he can think about is getting Steve’s lips back on his.

Steve relents and leans back into him, kissing him again with a small, happy hum. His hands come up to rest on Tony’s hips, but he makes no move to press further. Tony grips Steve’s shoulders as Steve pulls away, not letting Tony chase him this time and Tony sighs like a petulant child.

“Can I ask a question?” He asks, noting how Steve hasn’t moved his hands an inch from Tony’s hips. Which is, in Tony’s book, both a win and a loss.

“Not yet.” Steve answers gently.

“Why not? It’s an simple question.” He says, huffing a sigh.

“I know. That was the answer.” Steve says, grinning, leaning his forehead against Tony’s.

“How’d you know what I was going to ask, and how long is ‘not yet’?” Tony’s hands slide up to play with the hair at the back of Steve’s neck. Tony doesn’t want to be impatient, really. He’d rather die than pressure Steve into doing anything he wasn’t ready for, but still. He’s been waiting five months. He’s allowed to whine, just a little.

“Number one, I know you. Number two… I’m not sure yet. We’ll know when we get there.” Steve answers reasonably, and Tony watches him close his eyes before following suit.

“So, in like, five minutes, then?” Tony says, mostly-joking. It works, he notes, as Steve huffs out a small laugh, and his thumb strokes Tony’s hipbone over his tailored shirt.

“Tony.” Steve says, and Tony has yet to figure out how Steve can make a single word sound so affectionate and yet reprimanding at the same time.

“Yeah, I know. Too soon.” Tony admits softly, and Steve, unfortunately, chooses right then to let him go. He lets Steve go, too, without objecting like he so wants to; and he might be willing to admit that a small part of him is somewhat pleased to see Steve looks just about as unhappy about the situation as he is.

A much larger part of him just hates to see Steve unhappy at all.

“Hey,” he says, forcing himself to grin slightly, “‘Not yet’ isn’t a ‘no,’ and neither one of us are going anywhere.” He can do this. If he can be patient for anyone in the world, it’s Steve. He’s satisfied to see Steve brighten up a just little, lips quirking up in the corners, but before he can say anything, Tony decides to call it a night. He quickly leans up to press a quick kiss on Steve’s cheek.

“Good night, Steve.” He says, opening his door and going to step inside. Before he makes it all the way in, he feels Steve grab his wrist and gently, but inexorably pull him back, kissing him warm and firm on the lips. It’s still relatively chaste, but fuck, if just kissing Steve is this amazing, the sex is gonna kill him.

After a moment, Steve lets him go and smiles that megawatt smile that makes both men and women alike swoon.

“Good night, Tony.” He says quietly, looking at him with such bright fondness and affection, Tony’s glad he gets the door shut before Steve sees the flush spread over his face.

He is such a goner.


	2. Chapter Two

They manage to get a good four dates in before Tony lets the cat out of the proverbial bag.

They’ve officially been in a relationship for close to two months now, and it’s worked well. Better than well, if Steve’s being honest. Sleeping next to each other every night, dates that are now actually dates, and slow, hot make-out sessions like horny teenagers down in the lab. The only sour note Steve’s noticed yet is that… he’s still unsure about, well, anything past the slow make-out sessions they have. Fortunately, after the first night, Tony hasn’t tried to talk his way into Steve’s pants. In fact, he’s been pretty great about it; playfully teasing, but never making Steve feel like he was depriving him of anything.

And it’s not that he and Tony were hiding their relationship, they just kind of had an understanding that they would wait a while before any kind of announcement or semi-public acknowledgement. They both really should’ve taken into account that Tony’s brain-to-mouth filter never functioned right. Or at all, actually.

Steve’s sitting at the table playing Gin Rummy with Natasha when Tony, freshly clean, hair still wet from a shower; walks in and points at the appliance on the counter.

“What,” he asks with almost disgust, “is that contraption?” He may be clean, but he’s obviously tired. Sleep deprived, really, even more than usual from spending too much time in his lab. His exhaustion is painfully clear.

“That’s a panini press,” Clint answers in a patronizing tone, not even looking up from where he’s slicing tomatoes on a cutting board with enough speed to make everyone wonder if they should take bets on which finger he’ll lose first. Not that he’d ever listen to them if they tried to warn him.

“Okay,” Tony says slowly, “Better question; who’s operating said contraption?”

From the other end of the counter, where he’s slicing grilled chicken with much more elegance and competence, Bruce pauses in his task and raises his hand.

“As long as it’s not Clint, I approve,” is Tony’s only remark as he steps over to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Clint stops cutting and turns to glare at Tony, “Why is it,” he asks, voice laced with good-natured sarcasm, pointing at Tony with his knife, “when I say I’m cooking, you get all disgusted and grossed out; but when Bruce cooks, it’s all ‘praise the culinary gods!’” The knifepoint is only about six inches away from Tony’s face, but he doesn’t lose his deadpan expression as he casually sips his coffee before answering.

“Because,” he finally replies, “when was the last time Bruce cooked anything that made us deny the existence of a loving God? Answer: Never. Meanwhile, your score is three.”

Clint keeps glaring at Tony, only stopping to go back to haphazardly slicing tomatoes.

Tony smirks, and sits down at the table, “Who’s winning?” he asks, gesturing vaguely at the card game going on. Steve wants to laugh at the look Natasha gives him; something between indignance and disgust. “My, we _are_ full of inane questions today, aren’t we?” she smirks.

“My bad.” Tony says, taking another drink, and turning towards Steve, “Allow me to rephrase the previous question. How badly is she beating you?”

Steve starts to act offended, but only for a moment before he breaks into a sheepish grin. “Pretty badly.” he admits, fidgeting with his card.

Tony just laughs.

It’s after a few uneventful minutes pass, filled with idle talk, Steve epically losing a game, and Tony declining to be dealt in; that Bruce announces the paninis are ready.

“Oh! Mine!” Tony says, jumping up from the table and grabbing the nearest plate off of the counter. He doesn’t even bother to sit down before he takes a huge bite. His instant, enthusiastic moans of approval are borderline pornographic.

“Oh dear God, Bruce. It’s like a culinary orgasm.” Tony manages to utter this even as his mouth full of grilled chicken and vegetables. “I’d ask you to marry me, but I’m pretty sure Steve would object.”

Steve drops his cards, he and Bruce immediately snapping their heads around to stare at Tony, who seems completely oblivious to the implications of what he’s just said. Natasha doesn’t even lift her eyes from her cards, just grins knowingly. Clint, fortunately, had left the room to fetch a band-aid (thanks to his careless knife safety), so he didn’t hear Tony’s admission.

Bruce snickers and goes back to the panini press without saying a word. Steve sighs and turns to Natasha.

“You ever look at the person you’re dating and think ‘this is it. _This_ is the person I have chosen to lay my affections on. Excellent work, self?’” he asks, his tone a cross between teasing and sarcasm.

Natasha turns to look at Clint, who has come back into the room and is currently choking because he decided to try and shove his entire panini in his mouth all at once, much to Tony’s (still oblivious) amusement.

She turns back to Steve and nods, gravely.

\---

“So…” Tony starts cautiously, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch Steve’s currently sitting on, reading, “I’ve uh… given it some thought, and I think I owe you an apology.”

“Really?” Steve asks evenly. “Whatever for?” He glances up from his book to raise a questioning eyebrow at his tentative boyfriend.

“Well, it randomly occurred to me while I was working; you might not have wanted me to spontaneously announce our relationship to everyone over paninis.” Tony admits, pulling at a loose thread on his jeans and pointedly not looking at Steve.

“It’s not how I imagined they’d find out, no.” Steve concedes, noting his page number and setting his book on the end table next to him. “But then again, I’m dating someone with the known problem of no brain-to-mouth filter, so really, I should’ve seen this coming.”

“Hey, that’s not fair!” Tony defends, hurt coloring his voice, and he finally turns to face Steve, “I’m not some blabbermouth that goes around telling everyone-” He finally catches Steve’s amused smirk, and stops, huffing out a breath.

“Oh my god, you’re not mad, are you?” Tony asks, looking a disbelieving shade of relieved. Steve just smiles and shakes his head. He reaches out to tug on Tony’s wrist, gently pulling him close. Tony pulls back a bit, looking incredulous for a moment before he grabs handfuls of Steve’s hoodie and buries his face in Steve’s shoulder.

“I was so worried you were gonna hate me.” Tony confesses after a beat, almost a whisper against Steve’s hoodie. Steve chuckles softly, “I could never hate you.” he whispers into Tony’s hair, “I figured you’d know that by now.”

“Sure you’re not mad at me?” Tony asks, face still hidden. Steve gives a deep sigh.

“Positive. I was annoyed, a little, at first,” he says, and he feels Tony press his face harder into Steve’s shoulder. “But nothing happened, and besides, we would’ve told them, eventually.”

“Yeah, but-” Tony starts, and Steve cuts him off.

“No ‘buts’-” He admonishes. “What happened happened. It was inevitable, anyway, so there’s no point in fighting about it or worrying about it. We both knew they were going to find out, so really, the _how_ doesn’t matter.”

“Would’ve mattered if they’d walked in on us having sex.” Tony points out, crudely. Steve half-groans, half-laughs, playfully punching Tony in the shoulder.

“Yes, it would’ve mattered then.” Steve admits, good-naturedly rolling his eyes. “To me, anyway. You would’ve loved it.”

“Yes. Yes, I would’ve.” Tony says, his grip on Steve’s hoodie relaxing somewhat. “Bruce already knew, by the way.” he says, quietly. “I- I didn’t say anything, he figured it out before we did. Not, you know, details, but...” Steve feels his eyebrows raise and he’s momentarily speechless.

“Oh,” is all Steve comes up with. He shouldn’t be surprised. For someone so reserved, Bruce is freakishly perceptive. Almost as sharp as Natasha.

...Which would explain why Natasha didn’t look all that surprised. Maybe Steve was worried for nothing.

“But we’re okay?” And Steve can’t help but feel a little guilty somehow at the fact that Tony sounds half-scared Steve’s going to change his mind and storm out. What did he do to make Tony so cautious of him?

“Yes. I promise.” He makes his answer sound as firm as possible, not wanting to leave any doubt in Tony’s mind. He begins rearranging the two of them until they’re lying side-by-side on the couch. “Now, I know for a fact it’s been far too long since you’ve slept. I think right now would be a great time to catch up on that, yeah?”

“It hasn’t been that long.” Tony huffs defensively, but the entire sentence isn’t even out of his mouth before-

“JARVIS.”

“Sir last slept 42 hours ago.” JARVIS supplies helpfully, and Tony glares at the ceiling.

He looks at Steve and points back at the ceiling, “He’s a damn traitor, you know that?”

Steve huffs a laugh and pulls Tony closer. “Just sleep. You can punish him for treason later, okay?”

Tony grumbles, but settles down, tucking his ankle in between Steve’s. “You know anyone could come in and see us like this, right?” He asks, “And _they’ll know_.”

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, feeling a small, vague thrill at the thought. “They will.”

\---------

Steve wakes up a few hours later to Clint’s stupidly loud, victorious yell of “It’s about fucking time!”

Steve knows that he should be annoyed, but it’s pretty obvious there’s not going to be a problem with the team, and he’s pretty content. So he just gently shushes Tony, who’s started to wake up; and goes back to sleep.

They’ll be okay.

\-----

Funny how things work out.

If you’d asked Tony if he thought the whole ‘blabbermouth’ thing would somehow lead to Steve being more… aggressive in the bedroom, he would’ve thought you were crazy. But now, two days later, coming home from their fifth date, he’s starting to wonder.

Mainly because Steve has him pressed against the inside of his bedroom door and is currently sucking a hickey into his neck that will rival any hickey before it. It’s good. It’s wonderful, it’s exactly what Tony’s been praying for, and he has to stop himself from undulating his hips against Steve’s; worried he’s pushing too fast. Worried that maybe he’s misunderstanding, because jumping straight from makeouts to sex is a big leap, and he doesn’t want to make the wrong move and spook his newly enthusiastic boyfriend.

He does admit, it seems unlikely Steve’s not fully into this, judging from the way he licks the fresh bruise on Tony’s neck before moving back up to claim his mouth again, tasting like cotton candy and Sprite from the fucking _carnival_ they went to. And the cliche sweetness of the date, versus Steve’s suddenly aggressive behavior is responsible for the happy death of more than a few of Tony’s brain cells. Still, when he pulls away to tug at Tony’s shirt, he has to stop him.

“Steve,” He says, voice breathless and it already feels hotter in the room by about a thousand degrees more than it did fifteen minutes ago.

“What?” Steve breathes into Tony’s neck, still trying to tug on his shirt. Tony puts his hands over the blond’s and finally manages to work up enough brain cells to ask, “Are you sure about this?”

He feels Steve pause from kissing his neck long enough to smile and answer, “Yeah, Tony, I’m sure.” And try pulling at Tony’s shirt again. And again, Tony stops him, against his better… or rather, his more hedonistic judgement. He doesn’t want to stop, or turn this into an interrogation. Frankly, he’d love to keep this going, jump right into the fun bits and not look back or ask any questions, but this is Steve. Tony will be _damned_ if he doesn’t do right by him.

“Okay, then, what happened?” He asks, trying to keep his composure, and ducking his head down to meet Steve’s eyes.

“What do you mean, ‘what happened?’” Steve replies, pulling away enough to meet Tony’s gaze. He reluctantly lets go of Tony’s shirt and grips his hips instead.

“What convinced you now was the time?” Tony asks, and he sees Steve’s face fall, just a little. “No, no, no, I’m not… I’m not complaining. I’m on board if you are, I just- I need to know what made you decide tonight was the night. Please.”

Steve lets out a shaky sigh and leans his head against Tony’s collarbone. A beat passes in silence. Tony tries to ignore the fact that the raging hard-on he had a minute ago is calmly fading, much to his chagrin. Like it or not, some things are more important.

“You know, when we first started dating, I was afraid we were going to break up?” Steve asks, and Tony feels his heart skip a beat, “Not-” Steve continues, huffing a small little frustrated sigh and curling his fingers into Tony’s hips, “Not like we’d fight and decide we hated each other. I was just afraid we’d find out we weren’t meant for this kind of relationship, and we’d… let it go; go back to being friends.”

Tony has to remind himself that this is a hypothetical situation Steve’s talking about, because the mere suggestion of breaking up, of not being allowed to be close to Steve like this, is making his bones ache. “While I was getting ready to go this afternoon, I started thinking. I tried to figure out what it was I was waiting for. I realized if this wasn’t going to work, we would’ve known by now. But we’re here. Everyone knows about us, it’s... There’s no more excuses and I finally had to let myself realize that I’m never going to want to let you go. I will never want you any more or any less than I do, _right now_. And I realized I had no more reasons to keep us waiting. We both want this, and there’s no reason why we shouldn’t.”

He finally lifts his head when he’s done talking and Tony’s heart is beating harder than he can remember it ever beating. There’s no doubt in Steve’s gaze, just steady, open affection, aimed right at Tony. He ignores the sting behind his own eyes.

“You’re really sure.” He says, a little dazed. He was expecting more uncertainty. More of Steve trying to convince him, maybe convince both of them, but there wasn’t a hint of doubt or uncertainty in Steve’s voice anywhere in his explanation. Tony can’t help but marvel at that, just a little.

“I am.” Steve says, with a small smile. “So will you please relax, and take off your shirt, now?” He asks roughly, pressing Tony back against the door hard and pulling Tony’s shirt off with enough force that Tony can feel his dick getting back to rock-hard in record time.

“Wow, you’d think after so much junk food at the carnival, you wouldn’t be this hungry.” Tony jokes, gripping the back of Steve’s neck as he lays hot, wet kisses along Tony’s shoulder.

“I have to admit, I’m definitely ready for dessert.” He says, lowly against Tony’s skin, and Tony bursts out laughing.

“You did _not_ just use the cheesiest line ever.” He says, authoritatively, smiling wide and helping Steve pull his own shirt off. He can’t bite back the moan he gives when their bare chest touch and he tries to keep his sanity in tact.

“Made you laugh, didn’t it?” Steve asks, smiling before he kisses Tony sweetly, letting his hands roam over Tony’s chest, thumbs stopping to rub against his nipples and make him groan with need. “So, I win.”

“I like how you define ‘victory.’” Tony admits, pushing Steve away and he keeps pushing until the back of Steve’s knees hit the bed. He goes down willingly, attempting to pull Tony down with him and failing. Tony doesn’t say anything at Steve’s groan of frustration, but he’s thrilled to get a little space between them. Apparently, Cap Jr is _very_ interested in the current proceedings, and if a shirtless, horny Steve Rogers isn’t the most beautiful thing Tony’s ever seen…

However, it does have one rival. A _naked_ , horny Steve Rogers, which is something Tony’s going to need to see, _right away._

He pulls Steve’s socks and shoes off after he removes his own as quickly as possible. He’s interested to note Steve doesn’t try to stop him or pull him back onto the bed. Apparently, Steve’s as happy being submissive in bed as he is being aggressive, and isn’t that a beautiful thing? Definitely going to need some more research in _that_ area.

He waits until Steve’s moved up a little in the bed, now fully laid out, and delicious. He climbs onto the bed and sits down on Steve’s thighs, leaning over to kiss him, an activity he’ll always enjoy, no matter what else they have going on. He takes his time to lick into Steve’s mouth, running his hands over his bare chest and the ridges of his abs. His breath hitches when he feels Steve grab his ass and squeeze, and he has to break away from the kiss to take a deep breath, otherwise he’s liable to embarrass himself rather quickly.

He moves down and slips his fingers under the waistband of Steve’s jeans. He pops the button, but ventures another look up at Steve, silently asking.

“It’s okay. I’m sure.” Steve says with a small nod, smiling again, open and happy. Tony can feel himself return it effortlessly as he unzips his pants and yanks them off, taking his boxers right along with them.

Yep. He was right.

Naked, horny Steve is _much_ better than just shirtless Steve. He’s just as impressive endowed as Tony has ever hoped, his raging red hard-on already leaking onto his stomach, and every inch of it is absolutely fucking gorgeous. He doesn’t wait around admiring the view for too long, however, before stripping his own pants off and climbing back onto the bed to lower himself down on top of Steve, who immediately claims Tony’s mouth in a bruising kiss. He loses himself in the taste and sensation of Steve’s mouth on his but before he loses his grip on rational thought, he grinds his hips down into Steve’s. Their dicks slide together, and they both break the kiss, moaning, trying to find some kind of gratifying rhythm to their movements. In the end, it’s actually kind of awkward, and doesn’t really work for either of them, much to Tony’s frustration.

That’s okay, though. More than one way to deflower a super-soldier.

He rolls off of Steve, and lets a moment pass for them to catch their breath.

“Okay,” He says finally, running a hand through Steve’s hair. “Your call. How do you wanna do this?” Steve looks terrified at the prospect of deciding for one split second before an air of determination settles over him.

“I want…” He stops, blushing furiously, looking everywhere but Tony and he feels a pang of sympathy at his embarrassment. He has to remind himself that, as hard to believe as it is, this is Steve’s first time.

“Steve, it’s me. I’m here. No matter what you say, I’m not leaving.” Tony says, still stroking the blond’s hair, “You just have to tell me, what do you want?”

Steve stays silent, so he tries again.

“C’mon. You had to be expecting something. Whatever it is, I’m all for it, but you have to tell me what it is.” Tony nudges him in the side.

It takes another moment before Steve looks up and meets Tony square in the eyes. “I want you to fuck me.”

Tony groans like he’s been punched in the gut and laughs against Steve’s neck.

“What?” Steve asks, panic filling his voice. “Was that not right?” And he laughs a little harder.

“No,” He says reassuringly, “No, that answer was so goddamn perfect I’ll be jerking off to it for _years_.” Steve smiles and kisses Tony, licking back into the corners of his mouth and Tony can’t remember the last time kissing someone made him feel so owned and possessed. He’s kind of in love with it.

He’s loathe to pull away, but he has to, “We’re gonna need some stuff.” He says, regretfully, not wanting to leave for even a moment, even if it’s for a good cause.

“Yeah.” Steve says easily, propping himself up on an elbow to reach over to open the drawer on his bedside table and pull out a bottle of lube and a package of condoms.

“Just how long have you been ready?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow as he picks up the bottle of lube and eyeing the label. He desperately wants to know if Steve understands why it’s flavored, and if so, how he knows he wanted the strawberry flavor, but he fights down the urge to ask.

“I bought this stuff… a while back?” Steve says sheepishly, face red, and Tony grins lewdly, pushing his boyfriend back to lay back on the bed.

“Remind me to tease you about this later, okay?” Tony grins, popping the cap off the bottle of lube and spreading Steve’s legs. He licks a slow circle around Steve’s hard pink nipple as he slides his hand between his legs, circling his hole with two lubed fingers before slowly pressing one inside.

It’s insanely tight, and he feels Steve tense uncomfortably. It takes a minute for him to relax into it, and for Tony to slowly slide his finger in a bit more, before sliding it back out slightly. Steve’s breath hitches with every movement, so Tony stops lavishing attention to the hardened nubs of his chest to press gentle kisses to his neck.

“Relax. It’s okay.” He says, reassuringly between kisses, and he feels Steve shift, taking a deep, deliberate breath and slowly relaxing his muscles.

It’s a moot point, however, since he immediately tenses back up a few minutes later, as soon as Tony attempts to slide another finger alongside the first. Steve groans at the intrusion and it sounds pained, not sexy at all.

And now that he’s paying attention, Steve’s dick is starting to flag, and that’s the opposite reaction of what Tony was aiming for. He slowly slides his fingers out, and notices how Steve lets out a relieved sigh when they’re fully withdrawn.

Not one to give up so easily, Tony keeps kissing his neck and slowly strokes the outside of his hole with two fingers. Which seems to perk Steve’s enthusiasm back up after a few seconds and Tony feels him tilt his hips into the movement. He keeps the motion up for a bit, feeling Steve rock into the motion and moan softly, still softly placing wet, languid kisses on the underside of his jaw.

He keeps the movement up, relaxed and unhurried, just letting Steve enjoy himself; as he starts using his teeth to gentle bite along Steve’s collarbone.

It’s a lost cause, however, because the second he tries to slip his finger back inside, it’s all tense muscle and jerky little breaths. There’s a line between giving up, and recognizing when someone’s genuinely not enjoying themselves. Tony’s pretty sure they just crossed it. He slips his finger out and watches Steve’s chest fall as he lets out the breath he was holding.

He wipes his fingers on the bedspread and turns Steve’s chin to face him. “Are you into this?” Tony asks, and Steve’s either red faced from not breathing during the whole ordeal, or he’s just blushing _more_. It’s hard to tell.

“I want this.” he says, firmly, still not looking Tony in the eye, staring at his mouth instead. Which would usually be a turn-on, but not right now. Tony’s not deterred though. He understands more about personal sexual discovery than most. Some things just don’t work for some people.

“Okay, but there’s a difference between _‘wanting something’_ and _‘wanting to want something.’_ Do you really want this, or do you want this because you think you _should?_ ” He asks gently, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair.

Steve finally looks over at Tony, and there’s a glimmer of honesty there, and Tony knows whatever he says is gonna be the truth.

“The second. I think," he admits sullenly, and Tony can’t help but laugh. His boyfriend looks absolutely affronted. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Tony says, tucking his face into Steve’s neck. “You act like I’m gonna get mad if you tell me you don’t wanna take it up the ass!” he says, and yeah, he’ll admit, neither of them are really hard right now, but that’s really okay. Tony's great at improvising, in the bedroom and out, and there's no way this is going to be a sticking point.

"How about, I take this lube, slick up my own ass and we'll try this the other way around, yes?" Tony asks, picking up the lube and wiggling his eyebrows in mock-seduction.

Steve grins and Tony has the sudden feeling of being regarded as prey. He has to admit, he’s not hating the feeling. “I would support that decision.” Steve says, flipping them so he’s looming over Tony. Tony huffs out a breath and stares at the ceiling, enjoying the feeling of the blood rushing back to his cock. He’s always been a sucker for being manhandled. Before he can summon up enough brain cells to respond, Steve starts talking.

“Except, one little modification.” He says, and Tony watches as he carefully slides the lube out of his hand. “Can I?” He asks, his tone gentle and cautious, despite his previous show of aggression.

Tony just mutely nods, and tries not to pass out from the sheer hotness of the moment. Steve smiles, bright and wide, sliding down between Tony’s legs and pressing a kiss to skin just below his navel. He ignores the fact that in the process, he gets bumped in the chin by Tony’s now fully erect dick.

“I think I should warn you, though, the reason you might not have liked it- I might not have used enough lube so you wanna make sure that you-”

Tony suddenly presses his head back into the pillow and moans loud like a cheap whore as he feels Steve slide a lube slicked finger inside of him. He knew the serum made Steve bigger, everywhere, God bless America, but hes never thought about the effect it had on his dexterous hands. He’s been fingered before, he’s fingered his own asshole before and it has never felt this good.

And he’s only got one in. Tony is sure he’s about to be ruined for anyone but Steve, completely.

He’s considering how fucking lucky he is to be in the position he is, when Steve gently starts fucking him with the single finger he’s got inside, and all thought kind of implodes in his mind. He’s pretty much lost to the world and only faintly realizes when Steve slides in another. They’re easing in amazingly well, and he thought he would have to instruct his virginal partner in the fine art of ass-prepping, but he apparently catches on quick. He scissors his fingers and gently fucks Tony with them, patiently waiting for muscles to slowly relax before continuing.

It’s slow, and thorough and Tony feels like he’s being taken apart from the inside out. He grips the hair at the back of Steve’s neck as he peppers kisses along Tony’s skin. As Steve moves his mouth up to kiss the edges of the arc-reactor, Tony’s hands grip a little tighter in Steve’s hair. He’s unused to the reverent attention he’s currently lavishing on the machinery in his chest, and maybe a little self-conscious, but he doesn’t say anything, just lets Steve do what he wants, secure in the knowledge the younger man would never hurt him. He’s _almost_ annoyed at how Steve ignores his aching cock, but then the fingers inside him move again and it’s all okay.

“Have you…”Steve starts, but then flushes and goes quiet.

“Have I what?” Tony half-asks, half-moans, wanting to tell Steve whatever he wants to know, but unable to ignore the electricity going up his spine.

“Have you done this before?” Steve asks quietly, pulling back to look Tony in the eye, fingers ceasing their fluent movement inside him. He takes a second to get a read on Steve’s expression. He seems more genuine curious than accusing, so Tony figures the truth is the best option.

“Taken it up the ass? Yeah.” Tony says, nodding, and his eyes flinch shut when Steve presses his fingers in with particularly hard strength. It doesn’t hurt, not at all, and the idea that Steve might be jealous makes his cock twitch. “From a guy? No. I always topped with the few guys I slept with.” He finishes, biting his lip, and the fingers still again.

“Then how…?”

“Uh, Pepper.” He says, trying to end this particular conversation and get the focus back on getting Steve’s dick into him. “With a strap-on.” He keeps his eyes shut, can’t bring himself to see Steve’s expression, just hopes to God he isn’t disgusted.

“That is so hot.” he breathes against Tony’s neck, and Tony wants to cry with relief. He doesn’t have to beg, thankfully, to get Steve to get back to business. He curls his fingers inside Tony, just barely brushing his prostate, and everything goes back to static-y, slow waves of awesome in his mind.

It seems like ages of languid pleasure before he registers Steve slowly withdraws his fingers. He opens his eyes just in time to see Steve finish rolling on the condom, and coat it with plenty of lube.

He’s pretty sure his dick is saying what his brain can’t seem to muster up, slowly leaking pre-come onto his stomach. He squeezes his eyes shut and pulls Steve down into a heated kiss as he slowly starts pushing into Tony.

Tony grunts into the kiss as the head of Steve’s cock pushes past the ring of muscle and breaches him fully. Despite Steve’s generous endowments, he suddenly slides forward into Tony completely, with a loud, obnoxious ‘squelch’ sound. There’s a moment of stunned silence before they both crack up, Steve hiding his face in Tony’s neck and Tony laughing, open and happy.

“Remember what I said about not using enough lube with you?” Tony asks, “That sound is how you know you used too much. Sexy, yeah?” Steve is still shaking with laughter, and it’s effectively killed any tension in the room. Tony can’t remember the last time he laughed in bed with someone. Not even with Pepper. He didn’t realize it could feel so good.

It’s a few more seconds of laughter quieting down, before Steve pulls out an inch or so before pushing back in. Tony throws his head back and half-moans half-laughs, baring his throat, leaving it open for Steve to cover in bites and kisses. He pulls almost all the way out, and plows back into Tony with an impressive force, and it makes that stupid noise again, but this time, they’re both too distracted by the way Steve nails his prostate head-on to laugh about it.

Steve’s slightly stilted rhythm is a bit off, and Tony’s positive he wasn’t lying about being a virgin. His movements are pure instinct, unpracticed and unpolished. Not that Tony’s complaining _at all_. The glorious fact it’s _Steve_ moving inside of him right now making up for any problems he might have had. In fact, it’s only a few more hard thrusts before Tony’s seizing up, moaning out profanities, his back arching and his dick twitching as he comes hard. He’s temporarily blinded by white light behind his eyelids as his body convulses. He relaxes after a second, Steve still buried deep inside him. He sighs, and his grip in Steve’s hair eases up.

He opens his eyes to see Steve looking down at him incredulously. “Seriously? Already?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, shut up.” Tony says grinning, too high on endorphins to be annoyed. He knows he should be embarrassed, and he probably will be later, but this is Steve and he defies any man in the world to not suddenly jizz themselves with Captain America’s dick up their ass.

“So, now... what?” Steve asks, thankfully more curious than irritated, “Should I keep going?”

“Oh god, no.” Tony says, wincing slightly at the thought. He’s never been much of a fan of after-orgasm fucking. Too sensitive and weird. “That idea sounds fun, but in reality, so not sexy.”

“Well, then… what?” Steve asks, still mindlessly moving in Tony with these tiny abortive thrusts that he can tell Steve’s trying hard to control. It’s kind of adorable, in an unbelievably sexy sort of way.

“Give me a minute, okay?” Tony says, and closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath and slowly lets it go, reveling in the euphoria of an orgasm well had.

He opens his eyes and grins. “Okay. Time to even the score.”

“What do you-” Steve starts to ask, but before he can get the whole sentence out, he’s slipped out of Tony and onto his back. A few seconds later the condom is off, replaced by the warm wet heat of Tony’s mouth. He can feel Steve tense at the sudden shift and then relax as Tony slowly starts bobbing up and down, taking as much of Steve’s dick into his mouth as he can. Thanks to the serum, it’s not as much as he’d like, but he’ll take it.

He keeps his lips tight and makes sure he sucks hard, working his way up and down Steve’s cock. Steve’s hands grip tight in his hair, and it just goads him on. He works his tongue against the underside of Steve’s dick and takes great pride at the groan Steve fails to fight back as the tip of his dick hits the back of Tony’s throat. Tony swallows around the tip a few times, a trick he’s always personally enjoyed. He can’t really breathe when he pushes down that far, but Steve’s legs involuntarily open a little wider, hips unconsciously bucking up into Tony’s mouth, and it’s totally worth it.

He ignores Steve’s whine of disapproval when he pulls completely off. He takes a moment to lick a long, slow, teasing stripe up Steve’s cock, from root to tip, feeling the protrusion of every ridge and vein under his tongue. He uses one hand to balance and the other to squeeze Steve’s balls as he starts licking the pre-come leaking down the side of Steve’s rock-hard member.

He keeps it up with teasing licks and enjoys Steve’s frustrated moans. Minutes pass and Steve’s not begging just yet, but his hips keep thrusting up, despite the fact it appears he’s trying hard to control himself. He’s trying so much to be considerate of Tony while being teased to the edge of his sanity. It’s fucking hot, and Tony can’t take it anymore. He’s sure they’ll do this again, and he’ll make sure he hears what it sounds like when America’s Golden Boy™ begs to come.

For the moment, he takes mercy on Steve and wraps his lips back around his dick, he lowers his head as much as he can, cutting off his airway with the tip of his dick again. He swallows as hard and as slow as he can, and he can feel his lover tense.

“Oh, God, Tony.” He knows he can’t get it up again for a while, but the wrecked way Steve says his name makes his dick twitch anyway. Tony’s relentless, he doesn’t ease up or go back to teasing, just sucks hard, swallowing down the pre-come that’s easily flowing into his mouth. Steve is outright writhing against the bed now, bucking up and thrusting into his mouth carelessly, all former consideration obliterated in the face of an onrushing orgasm.

It doesn’t take too much before--

\--”Tony, I’m gonna… fuck… Tony.” He ignores Steve’s warning and keeps sucking, even as his mouth is suddenly filled with his release. He can’t quite get all of it, some leaking out from the corners of his mouth, sliding down Steve’s dick, but he swallows most of it down, so he calls it a victory.

He pulls off, only when the soft moans turn pained and Tony knows Steve’s ridden out his orgasm and now it’s just oversensitive, and not so much fun.

Tony doesn’t have any time to warn Steve about after-blowjob kissing, before he’s is pulling him up and claiming Tony’s mouth with his own, almost as though he’s thanking him.

“Oh, jeez.” Steve says, pulling back, and Tony takes the opportunity to wipe the saliva and come off of his chin and out of his beard. “I can taste myself in your mouth.” his voice is low and heated.

Tony doesn’t get the chance to ask if that’s a good thing or not before Steve’s is right back on him, working to lick any trace of himself out of Tony’s mouth and off his tongue. He’s not complaining at all. Steve tastes good, slightly sweet, and the idea that he’s getting off on tasting himself is _by far_ one of the hottest things Tony’s experienced, _ever_.

“So,” he says, content and breathless, propping himself up on his elbows when Steve’s finally satisfied and pulls away, “Snowballing’s your thing, huh? I’ll remember that next time.”

He’s grateful to see Steve looks as wrecked as he feels, lips slick and face flushed, chest heaving out ragged pants. “What’s ‘snowballing?’” he asks, tilting his head slightly, looking up at Tony.

He tries not to sound too maniacal when he laughs, “Uh… let me put it this way. The next time I blow you? I won’t swallow it before you kiss me.” He smirks as Steve bites his lower lip, feels the soldier’s cock twitch against his leg.

“That’s… a thing? You’d… you’d do that?” He asks, sounding amazingly bashful, considering the situation and the current topic.

“Yep.” Tony says, casually, slowly standing up to go get a washcloth. “It’s pretty low on the kinky scale, so it’s a good starting point.” He goes to the bathroom and cleans himself up, wiping the jizz that’s already dried onto his stomach. When he finishes, he gets a fresh cloth and takes it out to Steve, thoroughly cleaning him up before tossing the washcloth onto the bathroom floor.

It doesn’t take long for them to pull the covers back and slide under, Steve looking mildly conflicted.

Tony waits until they’re positioned comfortably, deciding he doesn’t mind playing the little spoon, curled with his back to Steve’s front; before he asks, “What’s wrong?”

There’s a pause.

“That’s not exactly how I envisioned that going.” Steve confesses, wrapping an arm around Tony, who just snorts.

“Sex usually doesn’t follow plans, especially the first time.” he says, offhandedly. “Was good though. No one was injured, orgasms were had by all. I’d call it a success.”

“Yeah?” Steve asks, and Tony can hear the insecurity in his voice. The fear he could’ve done better, that Tony’s disappointed somehow.

“Well, I’ll be honest, this isn’t probably something either one of us is going to brag about later, but yeah. It was good. And it can only get better from here.”

It gets quiet for a moment.

“I’m sorry I made you wait.” Steve whispers against his shoulder.

“I’m not.” Tony says confidently, without a second’s hesitation. “You waited until you were comfortable. Most people aren’t smart enough to do that.” They both hear the _‘including me’_ at the end of that sentence, but neither one of them mention it.

There’s a pause of silence and Tony knows he wants to say more. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to prompt him into saying whatever it is he wants to say. The last thing he wants is for Steve to feel like he needs to censor himself in front of Tony.

“You said that… _‘snowballing,’_ ” Tony can hear the blush on his voice, “was a good starting point.”

“It is.”

“For what?” Steve asks, and Tony’s thrilled to note that he actually sounds excited. Like he’s just realized all the possibilities in front of them. All the things Tony might be willing to do, all the things Tony might be willing to let him do.

“For every kinky thought and fantasy you’ve ever had.” He says, smirking; and really, he’d love to know what Steve fantasizes about when he jacks off. Even more, he can’t wait to watch his reaction to other things, besides snowballing, that he’s never even thought of doing before.

“Scared, yet?” Tony teases, intertwining their fingers over his chest.

He feels Steve plant a soft, gentle kiss on the back of his neck.

“With you? Never.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> or as my beta-reader called it 'The Chapter Of Feels.'

It doesn’t bother Steve when he wakes up the next morning alone.

Okay, that’s kind of a lie. It bothers him a little.

Or maybe more than a little.

No, just a little, he argues against himself. He gives a small sigh without opening his eyes. He slides a hand across the empty place in the bed that should be occupied by a wild-eyed scientist and tries to stamp down his dismay. Yeah, it would’ve been nice to wake up next to Tony after… _that_ , but it’s Tony. Steve keeps reminding himself of this as he rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Sex or not, Tony’s… _Tony_ , he thinks with a sigh. Tony  probably just got some brilliant idea in the middle of the night and couldn’t contain himself. It didn’t mean anything was wrong. It just meant Tony was who Tony was.

And that’s one of the things Steve loves about him. _Really._ Despite his slight annoyance, he thinks it’s charming, in its own way; how excited Tony gets, almost like a little kid. He wouldn’t change it for the world. So okay, he thinks to himself as he tosses the covers back and goes to the bathroom; it would’ve been nice to wake up with Tony in his arms, but he knew what he was getting into when this started.

 

\--------

 

Steve’s willing to admit he’s bothered when it’s been three days and he still hasn’t seen Tony. He tries a few times to get down into the lab, but JARVIS keeps insisting the lab is on lockdown, and no one’s code works. Not even Steve’s. He texts Pepper and asked, but she doesn’t know any more than he does. Just assures him that Tony’s always done weird crap on occasion, try not to take it personally.

And he tries not to. Really. Well, he won’t lie and say he doesn’t briefly consider breaking down the door manually, but that seemed like a bit much. JARVIS assures him that Tony is fine, not drunk or reckless, just working. And Steve doesn’t want to seem clingy or anything, like he’d throw a fit if Tony didn’t pay enough attention to him. He understands needing space and independence. He won’t begrudge his boyfriend that right. Tony wants to work, and he wants to work alone.

Again, Steve reminds himself that Tony’s just being Tony. It’s not much of a comfort, he thinks to himself, as he puts a container of the stir-fry Natasha made in the fridge, hopefully for Tony to find later.

He goes down to the gym and pretends he’s fine.

 

\----

 

It bothers him, openly and painfully, despite his efforts to hide it or ignore it, when it’s been over a week and Tony still hasn’t shown up.

Actually, it’s officially been _nine_ days and the anxiety has officially set in. He loses an entire night of sleep trying to figure out what’s wrong, what could possibly be going on. He asks JARVIS if something has happened. Maybe someone called, maybe Tony remembered a deadline. JARVIS assures him no one has upset Tony, that he just locked himself in the lab and refuses to come out.

Then Steve realizes the problem. Standing in the living room, all by himself, the sudden, obvious answer hits him square in the face so hard, he flinches. He feels his stomach drop, and the blood rush out of his face. An ache blooms in his chest, and he tries to fight back against the tears in his eyes.

It’s him. _He_ upset Tony.   
  
It’s the only thing that makes sense. They slept together, and everything was fine, but apparently it really wasn’t. He did something wrong. He did something he wasn’t supposed to or he didn’t do something he was supposed to. He disappointed Tony, or worse, made him mad and now Tony didn’t want to be around him anymore.   
  
He ruined it.

Arguably the best thing he’s ever had in his life and he’s ruined it. His chest feels like it’s collapsing in on itself.

The only thing that hurts worse than that knowledge is that he doesn’t know _how_ he ruined it. He has no clue what he did wrong. Tony told him everything was great, which was, Steve now understands, obviously a lie to make him feel better. What went so wrong that night that Tony doesn’t even want to be around him? What could have possibly gone so badly that he didn’t notice?

A familiar ache settles in his bones and he lies down on the couch. He pulls his knees up and curls into himself, a mental defense in his fragile state of mind.

He doesn’t sleep, but he doesn’t get back up for a long time.

 

\------

 

Its six more days, and no one else has mentioned Tony’s activities, except for a few jokes about ‘mad scientists’ and Bruce asking Steve if he knows what’s going on. Steve lies and says he has no idea. He hates lying, especially to his friends, but he just can’t bring himself to say anything to anyone out loud.

Just _thinking_ about it hurts too much. If he says it; admits that’s gotten everything so fucked up, he’ll hear it. Hear the truth out of his own mouth. The reality that he messed up so badly that Tony doesn’t want anyone around him. That he’s such a terrible boyfriend and an awful person that Tony would rather endure total isolation than the possibility of seeing Steve.

Bruce knows, though. Steve can tell by the way he narrows his eyes, but accepts Steve’s lie with a nod. Bruce knows Steve’s hiding something, but he’s too good of a person to mention it. He won’t pry. Steve wishes he could say the same of himself.

He goes down to Tony’s lab that afternoon, and considers his options. He could beg JARVIS to open the door. He could pound on it until Tony gave in. He could break it down, and apologize later.

But he doesn’t do any of these things, because those run counter to his current reality.

The reality that he’s scared.

He’s terrified because any and all of those options will lead to hearing Tony tell him what an utter disappointment he is. He’d find out the truth from Tony’s own mouth, and in all honesty, he isn’t sure he could handle it. He spends over half an hour staring at the steel door, clenching and unclenching his fists. He grits his teeth so hard his jaw aches, and his eyes start to burn from staring so long without blinking.

But he can’t bring himself to do it.

 

\----

 

The next night, they all end up attending a gala. A beautifully put-together event by Pepper to celebrate some charity’s 40th anniversary.  Steve wishes he could remember which one it was, he’s tired of half-assing conversations because he wasn’t listening when Natasha told him about it. Then again, it’s not like he’s dying to talk to anyone anyway.

He’s relatively sure his heart skips a beat when he sees Tony there, talking to Clint by the bar. He had asked JARVIS if Tony had given any indication he was planning on attending, but JARVIS had said no.  
  
He knows a public place is probably, no, _definitely_ ,  the absolute _worst_ location to do this, but he can’t _not_ do it. He has to talk to him. Just seeing Tony for the first time in two weeks makes his heart feel like it’s beating out of his chest.  
  
But before he can disengage from the couple he’s half-heartedly been chatting with and actually make it over to where Clint’s standing, Tony is gone. Before Steve can even ask,

“He said he was just showing up for Pepper. Said he was on his way out.” Clint says, and it shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn’t; but Clint is looking at him with a twisted combination of guilt and sympathy. When _Clint’s_ noticed something’s wrong in the personal relations department, it’s time to panic.

Which is exactly what he does.

He ends up sitting in the men’s bathroom floor, back to the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, trying to remember how to breathe. His chest hurts, his hands are shaking and everything feels too real. The realities that he has been trying not to acknowledge are all of a sudden pressing in from all sides.

He hears the door open, but he doesn’t have his wits about him enough to react. So he’s mildly surprised when he sees a red skirt out of the corner of his eye sit down on the dirty floor next to him. He doesn’t look to see who it is. He already knows. He wants to make a joke about a woman being in the men’s bathroom, but when he opens his mouth, a choked sob comes out instead. It’s in that moment that he knows everyone else sees what’s going on, too. The half-assed hope he’d been clinging too so desperately, that maybe he was just imagining the magnitude of the situation, has been decimated. Leaving nothing but pain and hurt, slowly morphing into pain and anger.

Pepper just puts a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him forward into a steady embrace. Her dress is strapless, so her shoulder is bare, and the skin of his cheek presses against her cool collarbone. This contact is an anchor, almost enough to make the moment bearable. Almost. He’s proud to say he doesn’t cry beyond that initial sob. He manages to retain that shred of dignity, but he swears he feels something inside himself die, just a little. He holds onto her, not caring he’s probably wrinkling her dress beyond repair. Fear, anger, and guilt mix inside of him until he can’t figure out what he’s supposed to do. What he’s supposed to feel.

So he just grips a little tighter and breathes a little harder.

 

\------

 

The next morning, Steve’s at the kitchen counter buttering a stack of toasted bread, listening to  Clint, Thor, and Bruce as they sit at the table and debate on the pointlessness of sports, which at this point has somehow morphed more into Thor relaying stories about Asgard than anything else.   
  
Steve hears the kitchen door open.  He knows Natasha usually joins for breakfast, so he doesn’t think too much about the sound. He is surprised, however, when he turns, expecting to  see Natasha, but instead sees Tony pouring himself a cup of coffee, as though everything were perfectly normal. As though he hadn’t been physically and emotionally unavailable for the past  couple of weeks.

“Hey, Tony,” Clint greets him, interrupting Thor, who continues to wax poetic about Asgard and its veritable _fear museum_ of animals, and you couldn’t tell it from his voice, but one look at Clint’s face tells Steve he’s doing the best faux-casual he can, “Gonna join us for breakfast?”

“Negative.” Tony replies after downing his coffee and going to refill his mug. He tops it off and starts back towards the door with a vague wave of his hand over his shoulder. Steve’s staring at the stack of toast, trying to process this, when the words leave his mouth against his volition.

“I wish we’d never slept together.”

The words are true, but he doesn’t know where they came from. The room is so utterly, freakishly quiet, you could hear a pin drop. Even Thor’s paused his regaling of Asgardian wildlife to stare, wide-eyed, at Steve, who’s equally frozen in complete shock at his own words.

Tony, predictably, is the first to break the silence. “Well, rest assured, Cap. It won’t happen again.” His voice is razor sharp and dripping with spite.

Steve’s relatively sure being stabbed the in heart would hurt less than those words, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the pain.

Tony goes to the door, but before he can exit, Natasha makes her entrance. She’s steely-eyed, in full Russian intimidation mode, and she grabs Tony’s wrist without saying a word. He’s smart enough, or scared enough, not to question this or jerk away. He just goes along as she sits him down at an empty chair at the table.

“If you’re not Steve or Tony, _leave_ ,” she says, voice cold and hard, leaving no room for argument. “ _Now._ ”

“Actually,” Clint says, eyeing Tony, who apparently has decided that if he cannot avoid this, he should completely disengage from the whole thing and stare blankly ahead into nothingness, “I think this is just getting good.”

Bruce, who’s in possession of more common sense, is already up and on his way out, but pauses long enough to grab Clint by the ear and drag him out of the room, ignoring his whines and pretend complaints that Bruce is hurting him. Thor, and finally silence, trails along behind them.

“If you are Steve or Tony. Now would be an _excellent_ time to talk,” Natasha says, looking at Steve who’s leaned forward to rest his head against the cabinet in front of him. She glances back at Tony, “And JARVIS agrees, so don’t even _try_ going back down to the lab.” Tony doesn’t react.   Steve raises his head and Natasha stares at him with enough authority and aggression, he’s taken slightly aback.

“Both of you. _Fix this_. Now.” Those are her final orders as she stalks out of the room with with a deadly grace and dignity that make it clear that she is in charge of their lives until they get their shit together.

The tension in the room is so thick, it’s almost suffocating. After spending so long apart, suddenly being alone with Tony seems intimidating. Steve’s not sure what he’s supposed to do, unsure of what Tony wants him to do. What he’s even _allowed_ to do anymore. The moments they had together, intimate and close, seem like a lifetime ago.  Finally, Steve manages to get out; “I didn’t mean like that.”

“Sure you did.” Tony says, looking down at his hands on the table. “Captain America never says anything he doesn’t mean.”

Steve snorts, humorlessly, and rolls his eyes. “No, _Captain America_ doesn’t. Steve Rogers does, though. On occasion.”

“Okay, then. What did you mean?” Tony asks, flatly, finally turning to look at Steve. It scares him just a little, how devoid of emotion Tony looks at the moment.

“I meant I wish we hadn’t slept together, because obviously, I fucked up somehow.” Steve says, point-blank and honest, because at this point, what’s he really have to lose? Judging by the way Tony’s face suddenly registers shock, eyebrows raising, it’s not what he was expecting.

“And you won’t even tell me what I did wrong.” Steve laments, “You just shut me out.”

Tony flinches at Steve’s words but doesn’t say anything. No rebuttal, no assurances. Tony’s silence is his only answer. He swallows down the lump forming in his throat. Steve can see it clearly now. He can see the end of this tunnel and there’s no proverbial light. Just a dim end he wishes he doesn’t see coming, but there’s no avoiding it. He steels himself and keeps going.

“If you don’t want me anymore, fine.” Steve says, firm and confident, as though the words don’t completely _break_ him, “But at least say it to my face. Tell me what I did wrong. Maybe I can fix it, learn from it, whatever it is.”

“Nothing.” Tony interrupts, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “You didn’t do shit wrong.” He leans forward, cradling his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his knees.

Steve breath catches in his throat. He knows, rationally, if he’s not the problem, there’s a chance he can fix it. He also realizes that, in equal measure, it may also mean he can’t.  “Then what is it?” he asks, voice rough, and he braces himself for the answer. Hope and cynicism battle in his heart, and the tension in his chest makes him ache.

“Nothing!” Tony says again, louder this time, raising his head and looking right at Steve, “It’s nothing. It’s stupid. It’ll be fine. I swear. Just ignore me.”

“No.” Steve says, coming to sit down at the table next to Tony. “It’s not nothing. You almost _completely_ isolated yourself from _everyone_ for over _two weeks_. That’s something. It’s not fine, and unless you tell me, it’s not gonna be fine. Not with us.”

“It’s nothing anyone can fix.” Tony says, dropping his head back down into his hands and sighing.

“Tony, just tell me, please. Even if we can’t fix it, just tell me.” Steve’s borderline begging now, and he’s 87% sure he doesn’t give a damn. Tony says they’ll be fine, but Steve knows they won’t, not if Tony hides something like this from him. It’ll be their downfall, if not now, then later. “Please,” he reaches out and puts a hand on Tony’s wrist.

This seems to be the tipping point--as though Tony is barely hanging on by a thread and  Steve’s touch is the key to completely unravelling.

“It’s me, okay?!” Tony lashes out, pulling his wrist away from Steve and getting up, going over to brace himself on the counter. “It’s me and my paranoia and my insecurities and my _stupid brain_ that won’t _shut the fuck up_. And I can’t sleep and I can’t eat, all I can do is _think_ , and panic and worry. I thought if I gave it time I’d get over it, but it’s not happening. I just need more time.”

“What is it?” Steve manages to croak out, deathly afraid of the answer. So afraid it’s going to be something he can’t fix. That all his fears over the past two weeks were right and he’s going to lose the one person that means the most to him.

Silence settles in the room and it’s painful. Steve feels stupid and helpless, hasn’t felt like this since he was young. It was an unpleasant feeling then and all the super-soldier serums in the world couldn’t make it better. Minutes pass, neither of them moving, before Tony turns to face Steve, hands hung at his sides. He looks defeated, like he know he already lost the war and he just wants the final blow to be delivered.

“When you look at me,” Tony starts.  He hesitates for a moment and, in that moment, Steve doesn’t dare breathe, “do you see my father?”

There’s a moment of silence, as Steve processes the question. And then, suddenly, all the tension in his frame snaps, and he’s bent over in his chair, laughing so hard that after a moment, he’s not even making any noise. The relief so overwhelming, it’s almost blinding. It feels good. It feels amazing. A sudden, brilliant catharsis. This. _This_ he can fix. He can fix what he was so sure was broken, with nothing more than the simple truth. His muscles relax and his heart starts beating in a rhythm that doesn’t feel like complete despair. It feels like hope, and love. He lets himself enjoy the relief a moment longer, before he straightens up, wipes the tears of overwhelming relief from his eyes, and sees Tony isn’t _nearly_ as happy as he is.

Now, Tony just looks defeated and _hurt,_ arms crossed in front of him. He doesn’t look at Steve, stares at the floor and looks like he’s mere moments away from bursting into tears. Steve winces in guilt. Bursting into laughter at your boyfriend’s reluctant admission of insecurity does seem kind of cruel, but he couldn’t help it. Even as he gets up and goes to stand in front of Tony, he’s still glowing at the revelation that everything’s going to be okay.

He tilts Tony’s chin up, presses a firm, chaste kiss to his lips. Tony’s unmoving at first, lips lax against Steve, and Steve panics for just a moment, but refuses to move away. He can be a stubborn bastard, too. He keeps his lips pressed against Tony’s until he feels Tony finally, gloriously, give in. His arms uncross so his hands can rest on Steve’s hips as he kisses back. It’s just as soft and warm as he remembers, its own tiny miracle in the world.

He pulls away after a moment and frames Tony’s head in his hands, his thumbs brushing against the skin in front of Tony’s ears.

“Tony, when I look at you, I don’t see Howard. I see _you_. I always have. The loud, brilliant, obnoxious, wonderful, infuriating, charming, selfless person that you are without even trying. I see all the parts you try to hide, and all the pieces you make sure everyone sees. Hell, Tony, when I look at you, I don’t see anyone else _in the room_. Just you.” Steve says quietly, and Tony’s gaze softens. “You make it _impossible_. I thought you knew that.”

Tony glances away, and Steve tilts his chin up a little again, forcing Tony to look him in the eyes. He doesn’t miss how Tony’s hands tighten their grip on Steve’s hips, just a bit.

“What brought this on, anyway?” Steve asks, gently.

“It’s stupid.” Tony says, dismissively, and Steve isn’t having it. Not after everything that’s happened.

“Don’t do that.” Steve prods gently, moving his hands down to Tony’s neck, “Don’t hide from me. Please. You’ve done enough of that.”

Tony sighs and leans forward, resting his head against Steve’s chest.

“You gotta stop hiding.” Steve says. Tony tenses, as though getting ready to defend himself, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. He sighs and Steve feels the muscles under his hands relax.

“It was just… the timing,” he finally admits, and Steve cocks his head in curiosity.

“What timing?”

“Us. Together. We started… everything when you were still… when you still wanted your old life back.” Tony says, not raising his head. “For some reason, the idea that maybe… maybe you only wanted me because you wanted me to be an extension of Howard,  got stuck in my mind, and it _would not shut up_.”

Steve won’t lie. When the situation is a little more stable, a little less fragile, Steve will confess. He will admit, albeit with guilt, that he did try see Tony that way, once. Sort of. He studied Tony at one point when they first met, actively trying to see any reflection of his father in him. Anything, his voice, his mannerisms, his brilliance. Something that could relate this person in front of him to the person he knew.

  
But there’s wasn’t anything. Nothing besides a few vaguely similar facial features that were easily overshadowed by how much better Tony was. How much more charming, and selfless Tony was than Howard could ever try or care to be. How Tony made Howard look like a bumbling preschooler, and how he was realms away from his father, in smarts and spirit. Taking the gifts genetics gave him and running a marathon with them.

But not once, not after they grew to know each other and became friends, and especially not when they were cautiously moving into more, did Steve ever look at Tony and see anyone else. He never would’ve kissed Tony that first time if he’d been thinking of someone besides him, he couldn’t hurt this beautiful man like that. Couldn’t use Tony for something so cruel and selfish.

“The timing was weird, yeah.” Steve admits after a moment, running his hands down Tony’s back. “But it was never like that. I swear.”

It’s the first time either of them have acknowledged Howard. At all. It occurs to Steve it might have been a good idea to bring it up before now. They might’ve spared themselves and each other a lot of pain.

“I’m not him.” Tony says, firm and harsh. Steve can see now how much the mere concept hurts him, defensive edge coming up.

“I know.” Steve says agreeably, raising Tony’s chin gently to catch his gaze. “I was never in love with him. Just you.”

Tony stares wide-eyed, mouth slightly agape, and Steve lets his expression soften. He lets the love and affection he feels for Tony, that he knows isn’t going to be rejected now, shine out of his soul like a beacon. Tony simply just stares like he can’t believe something as amazing as that could possibly be meant for him. Steve can’t help but smile.

He seems to understand Tony’s current problem and leans forward to gently kiss him. “You don’t have to say it, you don’t even have to love me back. Just _let me love you_ , okay?” He asks, running a hand through Tony’s unkempt hair. “Stop running and hiding when you’re upset. When you shut me out like that, it scared the hell out of me. I was so sure... Just talk to me? That’s all I want, I promise.”

Tony nods a little, eyes closing and he leans forward again, letting himself be completely engulfed in Steve’s strong embrace. He presses a kiss on Tony’s temple. “Just let me love you.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

Steve watches Tony from the couch tucked into the corner of the lab--his usual spot--and forgoes his favored hobby of sketching his boyfriend in action. Usually, Steve would absorb himself in lines, curves, planes, and shadows, but today is different. Today, Steve’s anxiety is on full-alert. Not depression; the knot of tired sadness that sometimes takes up residence in his chest is absent for the time being; he’s not scared, or unhappy, per se. Just… _anxious_.

Maybe it’s his imagination. Maybe it’s just his own mind over-thinking things, after everything that has happened, the drama the two of them have dealt with in the past concerning Tony’s insecurities. Maybe because of these things, Steve is projecting his fears. Everything is most likely _just fine_.

But.

He can’t help but notice something, though. He can’t help but sense something that may or may not be there. And, chances are, it’s nothing. Tony hasn’t tried to isolate himself--his fall-back behavior for when he doesn’t _“use his words,”_ as Darcy has called it, and he’s not really hiding anything, either, at least not that Steve can tell. More like, it’s typical Tony avoidance, if that’s  even an actual thing. It probably even isn’t.

_But it might be._

At this point in their relationship, most of the drama seems over. They go out, they have fun, they laugh, they come home, they have sex, they wake up together and live their lives. Wash, rinse, repeat. Except that cliche makes it sound monotonous and it’s not. It’s good. It’s solid, and stable, and as close to normal as either of them have ever had.

Really, the only thing even close to drama they’ve had in forever are Steve’s… “off” days, which are still happening, and which may never stop, but have eased into a much less frequent pattern. Everything seems to have leveled out. It’s been nearly four months since Tony locked himself in his lab, plagued with self-doubt and worry.

Which is why Steve is convinced it’s nothing...  _but._

Sometimes, Tony will look at him in a funny way, or touch him like he expects Steve to  going to vanish into thin air, or ghost out of his life without a farewell., and when Steve kisses him… Sometimes,Tony tastes like goodbye. Tony keeps watching like he’s expecting Steve to walk out and not come back. He flinches when Steve says he loves him. He hesitates, and once or twice had to cover up an alarmed expression, when Steve says he needs to talk to him. It’s not all the time, but it’s enough.  

Maybe it’s his own insecurities, telling Steve that he’s not making Tony happy enough, that he worries he’s not doing enough but… maybe it’s not. Either way, he doesn’t like it. Which means he needs to fix it.

\----

What’s funny: as soon as Steve decides this might be a real thing and decides it needs fixing, Tony actually confirms it for him.

In the middle of sex.

Which, given that this is Tony, is not that surprising.

Sex for them is… fun. Usually. Playful, giggling, happy. Occasionally, it’s more aptly described as “purely fucking,” and that’s good, too. Steve does actually enjoy snowballing quite a bit-- so much so, it’s become a normal part of blowjobs for them both. They’ve had sex in more places than either of them will admit to. And once they started having sex, it turns out, they both really like sex. Against walls, on beds, on floors, bent over tables and furniture. They don’t care, even when awkward moments happen. (Deciding to try and fuck with nothing but spit for lube, accidentally rolling off the bed, leg cramps, sneezing in each other’s faces, pulling hair too hard, and the glorious topper to it all; when Steve was determined he could deep-throat if he just tried hard enough, goddammit, and ended up gagging and vomiting on the carpet.)

This particular night, Steve’s sitting up in the bed, while Tony is slowly lowering himself down on Steve’s cock. Steve trying hard to stay calm and not push up into him, letting him take his time. For the most part, he’s succeeding. Tony always bottoms because Steve still hasn’t figured out how to enjoy anything more than a finger yet. Steve doesn’t take it for granted though, always carefully prepping him and letting Tony take his time adjusting.

They’re both breathing hard, Steve resting his head on Tony’s collarbone, his hands on Tony’s hips. Tony’s own hands are slowly curling and uncurling against the back of Steve’s sweat-soaked neck. He finally manages to lower himself all the way down onto Steve’s dick, and they both let out sounds somewhere between moans and sighs.

A long moment stretches out between them, serene and intimate; the beauty of the moment is somewhat ruptured when Steve hears Tony whisper against his temple, “Don’t leave me, okay?”

Steve’s eyes snap open, but he doesn’t lift his head, just grips Tony’s hips tighter, knowing he’s leaving bruises behind, and in that moment, not caring--because somehow, that seems to be the only way to immediately reassure him. But he tilts his hips up, just enough to count as a fuck into Tony, not being able to resist; before he turns his head, and places a soft, open-mouth kiss on Tony’s collarbone.

The word that leaves his mouth is barely a whisper, but when he breathes the word _“never”_ out across his lover’s skin, he knows Tony hears him, for he drops his head down to Steve’s shoulder. They both start rocking together, neither speaking again. As they leisurely fuck,their hands roam-- through hair, across damp spans of -skin, against the semi-smooth planes of their faces. The kisses they find themselves exchanging fit the unhurried tone of the night, soft and gentle.

They’ve had plenty of sex. They’ve occasionally fucked. But--this is the first time Steve feels like the only words that could apply what they’re doing now are _‘making love.’_ There are hot coals in Steve’s chest, smouldering and flaring, brought to life by the connection he’s currently sharing with the most beautiful, incredible man he’s ever encountered, burning himself from the inside out with his own love for him.

Tony hasn’t said it back, hasn’t told Steve that he loves him Four months since Steve’s stark confession of love, and Tony still hasn’t said it back. Steve doesn’t resent him for it, he understands it’s not as easy for Tony as it is from him, and he refuses to push him. He just wants Tony to understand how deeply Steve’s love runs. Etched into his bones and impossible to ignore and completely immune to the healing, regenerating serum that courses through Steve’s body. The mere idea of leaving Tony hurts him so badly, he knows that he’d rather die before actually going through with it.

He wants to kiss the words of his love into Tony’s skin, create organic tattoos spelling out confessions of love and devotion. If he could, he would pen an entirely anatomical love letter, scripted in enthusiastic fingertip bruises and love bites. Kisses and caresses. But he knows Tony, though--knows he’ll pretend he doesn’t see it, won’t want to talk about it. Tony’s been so patient and loving, but in non-desperate situations, communication is not his strong suit. Tony is an engineer and scientist, not a poet or writer.

Steve’s final thought before his mind is wiped blank by the slow burn of orgasm is _“He needs to see it.”_

\-----

The first step to a great plan is _identify the objective._

The objective for Steve is “convince Tony I’m not going to leave him.”

The second step is _identify your allies_. People who can help you complete the objective--people who may benefit if the objective is achieved, or believe in the objective themselves. For Steve, it seems to him, his best bet is Bruce. He considers Pepper, but then he realizes that Pepper broke up with Tony, and so it seems like she’d be a terrible choice for this, because she actually _did_ leave him.

He also considers Rhodey, Tony’s best friend for a couple of _decades,_ but Rhodey has been off the grid on a mission and as far as Steve knows, will remain that way for _at least_ another month, and that’s too long to wait. Steve likes to move ahead once he has a plan

Bruce, however, has stuck around on his own volition, and remains nearby, not by coercion or bribe; so his situation is similar enough to Steve’s situation to mean that he is be a veritable ally.

In true Captain America fashion, Steve Doesn't hesitate to take action once he knows what needs to be done. He doesn’t wait around, or try to gloss over the problem, or think of more subtle or clever ways to go about it. He never acquired Natasha’s ability and knack for mind games.

So. He locates Bruce in his own lab, where he is quietly reading on the couch, and straight up asks, without any preamble “How do I convince Tony I’m not planning on packing my bags and running away from him?”

Bruce doesn’t look up, just flips a page and answers calmly, “I haven’t got a clue...but when you figure it out, let me know.”

Steve pulls back a bit and narrows his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘ _no clue?_ ’ Tony doesn’t look at _you_ like you’re two seconds from running away. How'd you do it?”

Bruce sighs, taking his glasses off, putting his book down on the table and turns to Steve. “What makes you so sure he doesn’t?” he asks, crossing his arms in front of him.

Steve was about to speak, but stops at this, mouth partially open as he processes this  He snaps his jaw shut and huffs. “Fair enough."

“It’s Tony.” Bruce says, shrugging slightly, “I don’t judge, ya know? We all have our issues. Tony’s just happens to be he thinks everyone is just passing through his life and no one will ever willingly stay. That he’s not enough for people to stay.”

Steve frowns, “So what do we do to convince him he’s wrong?”

Bruce stands up, “I don’t know,” he says, picking his empty glass up off of the end table and heading into the small kitchen in the corner, “My plan is to just stick around and let him figure out I’m not leaving on his own. He’ll catch on eventually.”

Steve stares into space as he processes this. Bruce’s plan isn’t bad, per se; but Steve needs more. More action, more control, more Steve. He fidgets restlessly and picks at the seams of the sofa cushion as he thinks. He needs concrete. He needs a plan. He needs words. He needs _actions_. He needs Tony to _see_.

And before the thought even finishes in his head, he already knows what he needs to do.


End file.
